


The Left Side of the Lab

by prisonmechanic



Series: Alt-less stories [2]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alt-less, Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Alternate Universe - Vampire, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Science, lab partners by force
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-09-26 21:54:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17149769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prisonmechanic/pseuds/prisonmechanic
Summary: Preceptor takes a job in Iacon without reading the fine print. He very much regrets this.Brainstorm has a large decision to make- expose himself and thousands of others and solve the fuel crisis or stay chained to a lab desk for the rest of his functioning. But Brianstrom Has always been good at creative solutions; Much to Perceprtor's dismay.





	1. Lab Partners

**Author's Note:**

> Alright. Yeah i know i have two other ongoing fics but fuck it
> 
> a merry mechanic Christmas

“It’s just this way,” The mech who had been guiding up until now chimed. Perceptor hadn’t bothered learning his designation; it was unimportant. After this meeting, they likely wouldn’t see each other. Such was the nature of his job, well at least any time he was called to Iacon to work on something. What exactly that was, he didn’t know yet. 

They turned down another corner, deeper into the Institute of science’s labyrinth of an upper level. It wasn’t the direction of his usual lab, he noticed, but that wasn’t much of a worry to him. The Senate always did have the most interesting projects for him, most of which required large spaces and delicate equipment. Traveling from Nyon was always worth it, and this time they asked him to come for at least the majority of a year. Whatever the council mechs had him looking into this time must be something huge. 

The guide abruptly came to a stop in front of a plain looking door. By the side of it, some other scientist’s name scrawled in messy, hand-carved glyphs flowed over a nameplate. By the side of the door, there was a single glass window. At some point, Perceptor would have assumed that the window looked into the lab but now, it seemed like someone had covered it from the inside with some sort of hardened foam in an attempt to block it. 

The guide swiped a pass over the card reader by the door and passed it to Perceptor as the door opened in front of them. The guide motioned him in. 

“Your assignment should be detailed in the file on your lab bench,” his guide’s chrip sounded a little more forced this time. 

Perceptor took one step into the lab and scowled. 

Helf the lab was a mess. More specifically the left side, right in front of the window. Tools were strewn about without rhyme or reason, the foam covered several surfaces as if someone had tested the fluid and not bothered cleaning it up. Though, the most surprising of the inconveniences would have to be the mech sitting at said messy station. On the floor, a large red lie cut the room in half.

_ Great. A lab partner.  _

Perceptor entered the lab tentatively, only realizing his guide’s resistance to doing so after he offered the mech a greeting. 

“Hello,”

The mech didn’t move much; with his back towards the door, he simply peered over his large teal wings. He looked sturdy, some sort of jet though perhaps not a seeker. He was fiddling with something in his lap, but other than that seemed completely normal; if not a bit… eccentric. 

“Perceptor right? They told me you were coming,” The mech smiled, or seemed to behind his facemask, “And I told them, I didn’t need a babysitter.”

_ A babysitter?! _

“Name’s Brainstorm.”

His gaze shifted to his guide behind him, letting his optics fall into a deep scowl. 

The door slid shut. 

Perceptor hesitated but eventually made his way the station on the opposite side of the room. Best at least look over the assignment before complaining to the Senate over his arrangements. He could send an email once he reviewed the information. The file sat neatly in the middle of the main workbench. Perceptor opened it and started skimming the contents. 

He could feel Brainstorm's optics from the other side of the large room.

_ \- In which you will be required to watch over the specimen #2 as you analyze the substance he has taken to ingesting. Specimen #2 continuously refuses to produce nor explain what exactly it is. It proves to be a potential alternative fuel source to energon and an answer to the fuel crisis- _

Perceptor re-read the multipage document a second-- a third time. 

_ \- In which you will be required to  _ **_watch over the specimen #2_ ** _ as you analyze the substance he has taken to ingesting. Specimen #2 continuously refuses to produce nor explain what exactly it is. It proves to be a potential alternative fuel source to energon and an  _ **_answer to the fuel crisis_ ** _ - _

Perceptor leaned over, looking towards the cooling chamber to his side. In it, a single vial of some sort of green fluid. Now if only he could figure out exactly what specimen two was. 

Perceptor glanced back over his shoulder. Brainstorm was still hunched over, this time over the desk. 

_ Babysitter… _

Perceptor stood, and before he knew it, he was toe, to toe with the red line that separated the two of them. 

“Brainstorm.”

Brainstorm stopped what he was doing immediately, and glanced over his shoulder. 

“Yes?”

“Look at me.”

Brainstorm visibly deflated. But he turned, completely facing Perceptor with an exaggerated huff. It was the turn that brought Perceptor’s attention to the chain that dangled from the collar around his neck to the floor. Until now, hunched in an unnatural position, Perceptor hadn’t been able t see the thing. The collar looked, for lack of a better word, intense. It was thick and looked to be weighted. Instead of a locking mechanism, the piece looked to be directly drilled into the plating at the base of his neck. 

“Specimen two...” Perceptor put the two together and took a single step back. 

_ They had him working in a room with one of those… things. The Alt-less. And they expected him to watch over it like some sort of… some sort of… Babysitter.  _

They wanted him to watch over a cannibal. They wanted him to look after a monster who hid themselves in Cybertronian plating and fed off the energon of other mechs. 

What was he supposed to do if this thing broke out? Or worse?  _ Transformed? _

What was Perceptor supposed to do with a mechanical beast bent on consuming his energon and gnawing through his plating?

Perceptor, not exactly knowing what to do with himself, pivoted on his heal and went back to his desk. 

“You don’t have to be rude about it! Primus,” Brainstorm called out to him, “Oh jeez I’m locked in a room with a monster! That’s always how it is, ‘Are you gonna eat me Brainstorm?’, ‘How strong are those chains Brainstorm?’ Or my favourite-, ‘What are your fuel levels at? Oh no that’s too high to feed you... ’ It’s never, ‘How’s the work Brainstorm?’, ‘How are you Brainstorm?’ Primus, I used to work here with all of you and now I’m just some sort of thing to be locked away and-- and-- Babysat!”

Perceptor ignored him. 

_ This… thing held the answer to the fuel crisis?!? _

Really he shouldn’t have accepted the job, signed the contract, done anything really without looking into the assignment first. But he had already signed the papers, already made it to the lab, already found out the Council’s little secret. 

Perceptor typed away furiously at his datapad. But the deed was already done. 

The Senate was using an Alt-less-- a thousand more descriptors ran through his processor; cannibal, Energon sucker, spark eater, imposter-- The Senate was using one of  _ them _ for some sort of fuel production and… and…

Perceptor glanced back over to Brainstorm’s workbench. 

And a gun? 

The microscope didn’t want to trust a monster with a gun, let alone work in the same room as one. 

Perceptor hit send on the email. 

He’d just have to keep an eye on the mech in the meantime. 

The sour feeling in his tank only pitted out when He didn’t receive an answer by his off shift. 

Brainstorm had remained quiet for most of the day. Though Perceptor caught him looking at him on several occasions. It made him feel like some sort of prey being stalked from afar; It was nerve-wracking. 

The door opened.

Perceptor whirled around, only to be greeted by another mech. 

“Pharma.”

“Specimen two.”

The new mech, pharma, stood in the doorstep and looked Perceptor over. 

“The Scientist from Nyon I presume,” the jet strode in and looked him over with disinterest, “I'm hoping specimen two here didn't give you too much trouble. ”

Perceptor stood, and reached out a servo, “not at all. He’s been quiet for the majority of the day. The designation is Perceptor.”

“Pharma, head of Biology. That's quite uncharacteristic of it. It's usually full of tricks,” Pharma motioned jokingly towards the dried foam over the window as he took Preceptor's hand. 

“It’s completely irremovable; another one of his weird… compounds.”

“I’m right here,” Brainstorm waved his hand, “also not an ‘it’. Ouch.”

They both ignored him.

“Yes, I heard of Shockwave’s sudden resignation. Congratulations on the promotion, though his expertise will be thoroughly missed.” 

Pharma stiffened but offered a small smile, “Yes well we all can’t quit our jobs to take care of an injured racer, can we? Either way, I won’t keep you, I'll be taking over the night shift for you.”

Perceptor nodded, “I will see you in the morning?”

“Likely, unless specimen two tries to eat me,” Pharma  _ laughed. _

Perceptor didn't. 

“Why are you keeping him?”

Pharma stopped laughing. 

“I’m a genius that's why,” Brainstorm interrupted as if that explained it all.

“Specimen two was doing sensitive work before the discovery of it's condition. The Senate wished to see it finished before it’s fully detained.”

_ Sensitive work? _ Preceptor's mind wandered back towards the gun still splayed over Brainstorm's workstation.

“Before they put me in a cage for the rest of my functioning,” Brainstorm added with a deep rumble of his engine, “I’m not an idiot, I’ve seen Shockwave’s dissection notes-”

“That, and we’re still convinced it may tell us what exactly the synthetic fuel is composed of,” Pharma motioned to the tube still sat in the refrigeration unit, “If you would like the information we’ve gathered already in regards to  the specimen, I can have a report ready for you by your next shift”

“That would be lovely.”

The conversation fell mostly to goodbyes, Perceptor casual mentioned the email no doubt in the head Biologist's inbox. 

“I will see you tomorrow morning then?” Perceptor swiped his key card and the door slide open. 

Pharma nodded, sitting at his bench, “see you on your on shift.”

On the other side of the room, Brainstorm stared as if waiting for his own ‘goodbye’ to come. 

Perceptor turned and exited the lab, ignoring the pitiful look in the jet's eye. 


	2. Of Monsters and Mechs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brainstorm's mouth gets him in trouble.

Fear was always a good motivator. 

Perceptor drug a warm palm over his faceplates as he stared down the fake energon on his table. Three weeks. It had taken him three weeks to simply identify what he already knew; it, in fact, did mimic energon in almost every facet. Its potency was only marginally less than normal refined Energon but more interestingly it was pure-- no trace of any additives or impurities. 

And he was at an impasse. If he could just  _ ask  _ Brainstorm-  _ specimen two he reminded himself- _ what in the pit it was comprised of it would be a whole lot easier. But every time he made an inquiry…

“Oh, where’s the fun in telling you?” Brainstorm would tease, “Or perhaps I’m just a lot smarter than you are.”

There was an edge to his voice though, something deeper, darker. It made Perceptor uncomfortable as if the fluid before him held some sort of danger to it that only Brainstorm knew. He wouldn’t put it past the other mech to put something explosive in it, but seemingly he hasn’t. But corrosive? Or poisonous, toxic or harmful in some other way? That would still have to be seen.

So, he worked on. 

And still, he made no progress. 

Perceptor pushed the heels of his palms into his optics. Behind him, the constant clicking of his lab partner fiddling with his weapon came as a constant reminder of exactly the problem at hand. 

The reports Pharma had delivered also didn’t help. Old notes of Shockwaves described exactly what these things were capable of ( _ and what he was scared of) _ . Each of which got more troublesome than the last. The ability to produce acid through mechanisms in their mouth, emitting frequencies that render a mech completely compliant to an alt-less’ advances.  

He tried his best not to focus on them. 

Across the lab Brainstorm's own ministrations stopped. Instead, he drummed his fingers along the table. The soft  _ th-th-th-thrum _ repeated over and over. 

“Would you please quit that!?” Perceptor snapped, wheeling around in his chair and glaring at the mech across the lab. 

Brainstorm did stop his thrumming to look around to his lab partner and raised a datapad. He paused as if assessing Perceptor before asking, “Can you look over something for me?”

The immediate 'no' caught in Perceptor's throat as the other mech kicked off his desk, datapad, and stylus in hand. The motion almost happened in slow motion. Brainstorm's chair slid across the room and approached the red divider line fast enough to prevent Perceptor's cry of warning. 

The wheels hit the red line and Brainstorm's chain snapped taught, sending both the chair and datapad flying an across the room. Specimen Two stayed put, his chain going taught and keeping him on the left side of the lab. Brainstorm vocalizer fritzed momentarily before finding himself coughing on the floor. 

_ Was he stupid?! _

“Do you mind-”  _ wheeze,  _ “-just look it over?”

Brainstorm laid on his back, motioning vaguely towards the datapad now flown to Perceptor's pedes. 

With full intention to discard both the chair and notes flew across his side of the lab he grabbed the datapad and stylus. Unfortunately, he got a glance at the others to work. Surprisingly neat, the notes were easy to follow even as it passed his optics. Though only a brief glance Perceptor picked up the error immediately and the rest just came tumbling out.  

“You used the wrong atomic number for Gold. It's right at the top, you've been using the  wrong amount of valence electrons the entire time.”

Brainstorm sat up, rubbing the bolts in his neck absentmindedly. His gaze wandered away from Preceptor's, as if running the calculations all over in his mind. 

“That… that would do it, yeah,” Brainstorm sounded somewhat nervous at the fact. 

_ Had he not wanted him to find anything wrong? _

And then Brainstorm reached out his arm across the line, waving his fingers and asking for the datapad back. 

Perceptor almost did. The interaction felt familiar, something he might do with an actual co-worker. But he paused his motions halfway through, remembering exactly what Brainstorm  _ was _ . Any further and Brainstorm would be able to reach him. 

He stopped mid-motion. 

“What? Just give it back, I'll re-work it,”  the  _ thing _ looked up at him innocently, as if it couldn't possibly be planning something. 

_ Well, he wasn't going to fall for that.  _

“Stand up and walk back to your desk,” Perceptor commanded; his tone final and without question. 

Brainstorm's optics widened somewhat before looking up and down Perceptor in a much more accusatory gesture. But eventually he stood, taking a single step backward, “I don’t bite you know.”

“A risk I'm not willing to take,” He motioned towards the desk, “I’ve read Shockwave’s notes.”

The creature rolled its eyes but dragged it's pedes back to the desk and leaned against it in a huff, “What? The voice thing? Yeah, I’ve read the notes; newsflash! That one’s not  universal.”

Perceptor stood moving to grab his lab partner's wheelie chair. But he saw the opening none the less, “No?”

“That was B-uhhhhhh… Specimen One's thing,” 

“You knew his actual designation?”

Brainstorm ignored the question, “Lucky fragger had a specialized engine that could rattle his vocalizer a certain way; a medic and I took a look into it once. We thought we might be able to replicate it somehow but alas no such luck. Well, not now that I'm stuck here STILL waiting on my notes?”

Perceptor laid the datapad and stylus on the chair and pushed it over the Brainstorm's side of the lab. The mech grabbed onto it swiftly and removed the datapad and sat on the chair backward, looking at his companion. 

“And the acid production?”

Brainstorm lit up, “It’s actually a highly corrosive acid Specifically aimed at metal consumption.”

And then as to prove his point lifted the metal stylus from under his leg. Swiftly, he pulled his mask off, allowing a small glance at a sort of symbol etched into its surface before sticking the end of the stylus in his mouth. 

Perceptor watch as for a few moments Brainstorm simply sucked on the metal. And then he pulled it out and swallowed. What had been placed in the mechs mouth was completely gone, leaving nothing but a smoothed edge like that of a popsicle sucked on for several minutes. 

Perceptor gaped at him. 

“Personally, I'm a fan of Spark casings,” Brainstorm winked at him. 

Perceptor felt the colour drain from his face. 

“A joke! A joke, jeez. Nah, I just get really bad cravings for rust sticks or and rare earth metal.” 

Perceptor didn't know what to say to that. Scientific curiosity battled with fear as he watched Brainstorm's face fall from across the room. The mech seemed nice enough; willing to talk professionally with him and even trying to start banter. He felt extremely close to a co-worker. 

But the scientist would not forget what he was dealing with here. 

Brainstorm, now complete culled by the silence replaced his battle mask on. Looking once more to Perceptor for a retort he sighed. 

“Look I get it was in poor taste, but seriously. I would never do something like that. The practice is super old school and barbaric.”

Preceptor deadpanned, “So you do have moral compasses then?”

Brainstorm tapped the side of his head, “Sentience, does a lot for your fellow mech.”

“Is it that sentience that gives you a compulsion to murder mech’s for their fuel?”

There it was. Out on the table. The sure and blatant ‘You eat mechs.’ It was safe with Brainstorm chained on the other side of the room if he took offense. Perceptor reminded himself he was safe and waited for Brainstorm's response. 

Brainstorm  _ laughed.  _

Hard and long. The noise reverberated from deep in the mech's chassis and poured into the room in a contagious wave. And though he could tell Brainstorm was laughing at him Perceptor could feel no genuine ill will to it. Still, though the mech's laugh was cute ( _ no.),  _ Loud the scientist couldn't find the punchline nor what exactly the set up had been. 

So. He spoke, “I don't see what's so funny.”

“That Energon you’ve been analyzing,” Brainstorm finally took a deep vent, “What do you think I was drinking that for _? Please, we_ solved that problem years ago.”

Perceptor's attention flitted back towards the synthetic energon before returning to the monster. 

“And you manufacture it yourself?”

Brainstorm nodded, “It was designed specifically with readily available materials so that even the lower castes could produce it themselves.”

_ Readily available materials… _

_ Even the lower castes... _

Perceptor swung back around to his desk and ran through his notes quickly, grabbing his stylus. 

“Perceptor wait-”

He crossed off things furiously, organizing materials according to price and availability. It wouldn't give him exactly what he needed to figure it out but it was at least a hint-- a direction to investigate--

“Perceptor, you don’t know what you’re doing--”

And Brainstorm had given it up so easily in a  _ joke _ . The idiot couldn't stop bragging and it gave him valuable information. Brainstorm claimed to be a genius but from Perceptors point of view, he was nothing more than a stupid mech-animal.

A mech animal that was collared, trapped and only trying to save his own plating by hiding the solution to the fuel crisis. To imply anything else would mean the thing had rational thought and therefore more of a reason to hide such a discovery. 

“You’re looking at outing an entire marginalized group--”

For public safety. Outing the Alt-less among them wouldn't be such a bad thing anyway. It would reduce the number of attacks to have them locked away. Not to mention the possibilities for further fuel source development. 

Perhaps even giving Perceptor a more permanent spot in the Iacon institute. 

“This is a lot bigger than you and I Perceptor. We’re talking like, council level. Like genocide level--”

That got Perceptor to turn around. His vents stalled as he examined Brainstorm's more panicked posture and field. It was open, and though his words were explanatory and blunt his field balanced dangerously with concern and something darker resembling a threat. 

But not quite. 

More of a warning?

It was an odd mix, and now Perceptor had felt it raised more questions; this time, not so mechanical. 

“What do you-”

_ Click-snict. _

Brainstorm's attention went to the door before Perceptor's. He visibly shrunk, taking a step back towards the desk he was chained to and lowering his head as if a sparkling caught doing something he was told not to. He hadn't known when Brainstorm had come up to the red line and the end of his chain. 

“Is there a problem?” Pharma asked from the doorway. His tone was definitely a threat. 

“No,” Brainstorm answered as if on instinct, too quickly to be actually thought out. It made Perceptor wince internally. And for a moment their situation resembled less of a Creator and a sparkling and more of a proud master and worried servant; scared of punishment and awaiting retribution for an infraction yet discovered. 

Pharma's gaze drifted to Perceptor as he flicked his wings in question. 

“Specimen two just gave me valuable information regarding the energon, I'll be it unintentionally,” nothing better than the truth. Perhaps it was the inflections earlier but Perceptor chose to word it as politely as possible. 

“Hmm,” Pharma hummed, almost floating over the floor as he walked over to the right side desk, “It is nice to see progress finally. And the sooner we can get this thing properly restrained the safer we’ll all be.”

Percpetor nodded in agreement, finding himself  _ mostly  _ in agreement. 

Brianstrom’s shuffling signaled his retreat back to his desk.

 

In the coming days, Brainstorm refused to greet him with much more and a soft tone of acknowledgment. And every time he did so it dragged another whisp of warning around his spark. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't expecting to get so much love for this fic!
> 
> Thank you so much for everyone commenting and leaving kudos! It really helps me write more!


	3. Synthetic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Perceptor Is emotionally constipated and Brainstorm is angry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes you just write 2000 words in a day and you have to deal with the sad, sad realization You're not getting dick for a few weeks and I'm oversharing but give me a break it's 3:20 am and still have an itch for a Starscream scene.

It was lonely. 

In Nyon, Perceptor hadn't been the most sociable of mechs. And when he came to Iacon he was never here long enough to make any real connections. There was co-worker banter and group work but it was all strictly work-related. At least in Nyon, he had a small group he could sit with and refuel if he wished, but because of Brainstorm, he had been required to fuel with the creature. And well, because of Brainstorms… condition it wasn’t as if they had a lot of visitors save for Pharma’s appearance at shift change.

But at least it was something.

He had admittedly gotten used to Brainstorm's banter over the last few weeks. The way he jogged around any incriminating question was at least something to occasionally give his mind a rest. He hadn’t realized exactly realized he had fallen into a routine with him. The small quips and banter had filled his days with a semblance of normalcy.

And now that was gone. 

It was almost a blow to him. In fact, he didn’t exactly know why it had happened at first. It had taken him about a week of the silence to even realize anything was wrong. A full week of short responses and muted mumblings to even comprehend that Brainstorm may even be mad at him.  

In his defence, he was never very good with others emotions. 

The revelation had come onto him quite suddenly in fact. 

“I don’t have any idea how the pit you got this concoction to settle properly,” Perceptor half mumbled to himself, half mumbled so that the mech across the room might quip back at him. He didn’t exactly know when he expected some response back, but when absolutely no noise came from his lab partner, Perceptor found himself raising his head. 

When he swivelled in his chair to face the other mech, Brainstorm was hunched over his own station, aggressively tightening something. If he had heard what Perceptor had said, he gave absolutely no indication. 

“Specimen 2? Brainstorm?”

The creature tensed, “I’m not answering your question Perceptor. Get back to work.”

That was new. And it was then that he had actually realized that perhaps maybe something was wrong with his partner. 

“Are you… Well?”

And the more he thought about it the more he realized Brainstorm had been like this since their conversation regarding the synthetic Energon. Suddenly Perceptor felt a dip of uncertainty in his spark; as if he had been missing something important this entire time. 

Why was the monster’s feeling important to him?

“Fine, Percy. It’s fine,” Somehow, he could tell it wasn’t. 

It was somewhat of a distraction. A loss of focus Perceptor would berate himself for later. But he went to stand, placing his hand a little too firmly on the desk, his thighs hit it on the way up. 

_ Tink! _

_ Hisssss _

The burning was instantaneous. 

Admittedly he yelled as the fluid he had been working on poured over his hand. Though the components weren't mixing properly the combined PH of them was highly Alkaline and highly corrosive. 

The hiss of not only his paint melting away but the beginnings of the outer layer of his plating dictated only moments before the metal would start to completely wear away. 

He let a pained whimper escape his lips as he wheeled around, looking for the wash station. Whether that would help even was a coin toss. What he truly needed, was some sort of way to neutralize the solution. 

“Come here!” Brainstorm snapped, now standing at the end of his chain, motioning frantically for Perceptor to come his way.

Whoever had put the emergency wash station on Brainstorm's side of the lab, was going to  _ pay.  _

Another glance down at his hand revealed the stripping of the lower layers of the metal. It would only be a moment before it hit his motor relays. 

“Perceptor! Get over here!”

_ Approach the alt-less or risk losing the hand or even the arm.  _

He let out a hiss as he crossed the lab before he had any more of a moment to think over what exactly he was doing. 

He stepped over the red line but didn't dare to advance more. Not until Brainstorm made his move. 

His fuel pressure was up, if not from the pain than from the anticipation and fear. He found himself unable to move from his planted spot, plating pulled tight and spark  _ racing.  _

When Brainstorm gently gripped his elbow, he jolted, but not away. 

He didn't look as Brainstorm pulled his hand up.  And lead him swiftly towards the sink. With a practiced motion, he placed the appendage under the cool water and set about removing his mask. 

“The water will dilute the solution but not completely get rid of it,” Brainstorm spoke swiftly, but with a firmness that suggested he had been in this position before, “I can neutralize it but You're going to have to trust me.”

At least then, Perceptor found his voice, “Just get it  _ off. Please. _ ”

Brainstorm nodded, bringing his servo up out of the water and brought it to his mouth. 

With the cool of the water gone the burning was back if not slightly weaker. Perhaps it was that, or the look of his pitted and damaged hand that caused him to hold, and wait for Brainstorm's next move. 

His next move, as it turned out, was to stick out his tongue. It was mesmerizing, watching him bring the acid ridden mechanism up and across his palm. He knew logically he should be scared, terrified at the prospect that this thing before him was going to snap his jaw over his servo and  _ rip _ ; but he wasn't. He blamed it on the pain.

The path of Brainstorm's tongue left a cool trail, and only then did Perceptor realize exactly why Brainstorm was doing what he was. He was neutralizing the alkaline mixture with the acid of his own spit. 

He was wordless.  

Not speechless. 

In fact, after brainstorm finished the first lap of his palm, he went up towards his fingers and continued to lick, quite intently. The stripped metal of his hand was sensitive, and when he dragged his tongue over a particularly thin part between his fingers, Perceptor couldn't hold back the whine and subsequent clicking of his cooling fans. 

Brainstorm immediately pulled back. 

With the barrage of emotions still tight around his spark, the lack of sensation only amplified the burning on the rest of the hand. And perhaps, despite himself, he let out a small whine of his engine. 

“I’m sorry,” Brainstorm took the moment to wipe his mouth, “did I hurt you?”

When words failed him, he shook his head. 

Brainstorm’s lip curled up (why had he been watching his lips so intently?) as if conflicted. He stared at the hand before him as if it might earn him hell to continue licking it. And for a brief moment an odd question entered his processor;  _ Did he not taste good enough? _

Perceptor dismissed the notion immediately. It didn’t matter if Brainstorm found him repulsive. It was preferable even.

“I’m sorry,” Brainstorm apologized again, “I need to finish.”

Percpetor managed a nod. 

Brainstorm snaked his tongue back between his lips. It was odd, how tightly he held them closed, but an awkward lick around his thumb brought into view the fangs lying just beneath the surface. 

Yet Brainstorm was so careful; so completely considerate that Perceptor couldn’t help but admire the juxtaposition. How something like acid made to break down a mech’s plating could be used in healing was beyond him. The science was there, but to even  _ think _ of such a thing was a shine of brilliance. 

Coming from a mech who had forgotten the atomic number for Gold last week. 

And he licked again, this time between his index and ring finger and Perceptor  _ melted.  _

Perceptor wasn't one to let his mind wandered, and looking back on this moment he would likely hate himself for it. But he did, just for a moment, let himself enjoy something so absolutely powerful and ferocious and treating him oh so gently. 

He didn't catch himself before he raised a hand to cradle Brainstorm's cheek. 

Brainstorm's optics immediately shot to meet Perceptor's. And for a click, they just looked at each other. 

Brainstorm was a mech. A living breathing thing. 

The implications of that were to heavy for the moment. 

Brainstorm was the first to blink and somehow that broke whatever spell had fallen over them. He immediately pulled back, flicking the water back on and plunging Perceptor's servo back under it. 

“You should call Pharma. The mixture may be neutralized but you still have extensive damage.” Brainstorm sounded resigned in the fact, “you need to see a medic.”

Was that it? Was Brainstorm not going to even acknowledge what just transpired?

“Brainstorm...” 

He needed the words. If he could just find the words--

“Stop. Perceptor. You don’t know what you're doing, and like usual it’s going to get someone hurt.”

His spark dipped in its casing with desperate need. For what he didn't understand but he truly didn't want this to end here. Not before he could at least get out something out; if not to make Brainstorm better but at least clear the air. 

“If this is about the synthetic Energon and what you said before--”

_ Those were the wrong words.  _ They felt wrong for the situation. They weren't what he meant. He wanted to express the curiosity, the guilt,  _ the concern  _ but for some reason that had manifested itself as  _ politics _ and  _ work  _ of all things. 

Brainstorm scowled. 

“Do you want the facts of the situation Perceptor?”

His tone was dangerous. Yet somehow Perceptor knew Brainstorm wouldn't lash out. 

He nodded, “Of course.”

Brainstorm took a long vent and then spoke, “If the council gets their hands on that formula, I’m not going to be the only mech chained to a desk and supervised every hour of the desks. And in fact, it will be much worse for them than it ever has been for me.”

He couldn't help but bring up, “The attacks. You can’t disregard the safety of millions of normal, everyday mechs--”

“In last stellar cycles census it was an estimated 1 in 750,000 mechs were an Alt-less. The number was based on frequency of attacks and territorial fights. Do you want to know the reality of it Perceptor?” Something in the back of Brainstorm's mouth caught Preceptor's attention as he spoke. The metal was barely visible but a black contrast of the orange tubing in Brainstorm's mouth. 

“In this building alone I can name 5 of us. Do you know that density number? In our building alone, just in the institute's doors, that number is 1 in 1000. That's 750 times more common that the council will have you believe. And you know what? They’d have us all dead.”

The more he spoke the more that thing worried Perceptor. How was he not choking on it?

“And then if not dead-”

Brainstorm was rougher with his motions now, more aggravated in his angry state. He didn't mean harm, but he yanked Perceptor's hand out of the water with a renewed force. 

And then he saw it. 

Green crystalline buildups in his joints. Where the mixture had pooled And met Brainstorm's tongue off coloured Energon crystals had begun forming. And that was just with barely any solution, to begin with. 

Several pieces snapped together. 

“If they kill us  _ on sight _ for some perceived threat that we police ourselves for, what do you think they'll do when  they find out our mouths are full of  _ liquid gold. _ ”

Perceptor suddenly felt sick. 

They had put him not at the forefront of scientific discovery but of that of exploiting what could be grouped as civilians. And the discovery wasn't even his to begin with. He was stealing it. 

“They’ll hunt us down by crimping the supplies needed to make the synthetic Energon, forcing us out and into hunting. From there it's a matter of time before they start using us for production.”

Perceptor pulled away, optics trained onto his servo with a morbid realization. 

He should reassure Brainstorm. He should get rid of the evidence. If only to stall for time to make a decision. He needed to say something-- anything to his lab partner. 

_ Partner _ . 

Is that how Brainstorm saw him? Or a liability about to expose him to the world? Was Brainstorm  _ scared of him _ ?

He needed to say something. He needed to just find the words-- something.  _ Anything _ . 

He ran. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feed me, please.  
> with comments.   
> they make me happy.


	4. Goodbyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title kinda explains this one

He dreaded work. 

But repairs at the medic went too fast. He had assumed he would have been tossing and turning all night but as soon as he hit the berth he was out like a light. And even then, the steady motions of his morning routine seemed to eat away at minutes much faster than usual. It didn’t seem like enough time to decide. It didn’t seem  _ fair.  _

He wondered, idly over his morning energon if Brainstorm thought his own situation was fair. 

The only  _ possible  _ solution he could think of was to try and replicate Brainstorm's saliva. But that came with its own brand of issues. Namely, cost-effectiveness, how he was going to explain his findings to the institute. And yet it still would likely get the Alt-less hunted down. 

He arrived at work too soon. 

The institute loomed over him as he approached. It was if the building itself had grown, simply with the weight of what it contained inside. But duty beckoned him into the mouth of the entrance. His auto-pilot brought him down the twisted intestines of the upper levels, straight to the lab door. 

It opened for him. 

“I’M GOING TO FRAGGING KILL YOU WHEN I GET BACK!” Pharma burst through the door, storming forward and pushing harshly past Perceptor with little more acknowledgement than a grunt. 

Perceptor looked down, stunned into a pause at the door. 

Pharma had left a small drip trail of energon behind him. 

_ Ah. So that's what he had been so angry about.  _

Perceptor stepped into the lab, somehow confident he was relatively safe. 

“Good morning,” he greeted. 

Brainstorm looked  _ guilty.  _ Head bowed and pushed in tightly to his desk, he reminded Perceptor of a sparkling who had been caught stealing energon sweets. He was avoidant, offering little more than a grunt as a greeting. It was a far cry from the  _ hand licking  _ of yesterday, and if Preceptor was being honest it made him curious. 

“What was Pharma going to kill you over today? Did you finally finish that gun of yours?” 

Brainstorm shuddered but did finally turn to his lab partner. The energon on his exposed intake spoke volumes more than any explanation could. It forced Perceptor to pause and examine him with newfound scrutiny.  

Oddly enough Perceptor didn't get that sinking fear in his spark that he had expected. Instead, a worry set in; a concern he couldn't quite place immediately. Without direction, the emotion festered for a beat. 

“I uh… Look, Percy, I'm gonna go away for a while,” Brainstorm looked utterly ashamed of himself. Not the look of a scolded sparkling but of a mech who had done something truly and utterly terrible and only now had realized the consequences. 

Brainstorm turned back towards his desk. With great care, he wipes down both his mask and his own face. There was a sombre flow to his movements that Perceptor couldn't help but notice. He lacked the usual boisterous jump to his movements. Tied together it ebbed with an explanation. 

Yet one question remained unanswered.

“Why?” Perceptor the word falling between his lip plates before he could stop them. 

“Look, Percy. I like ya and all but this is a lot bigger than-” 

“Than what I know. You’ve said that a few times. What I don't understand is why?  _ I have the formula.  _ Why now?”

Brainstorm ran a hand down his face and his wings twinged taught with emotional strain. Perceptor found himself mimicking the posture though he couldn't quite place why. And again, that worry in his spark rose in anticipation for whatever Brainstorm's reasoning could possibly be.

And then Brainstorm mumbled something totally inaudible. 

“Pardon? Brainstorm?”

“Primus Perceptor I’m scared! And I’m done waiting for the day they drag me down to Pharma’s slab! Primus damn it Perceptor at least down there he'll take this Fragging spike out of my mouth so I won't have to die cowering in this useless form!”

Perceptor's vents ceased.  _ That's _ what Perceptor had seen in his mouth yesterday; the fleeting metal he had caught when Brainstorm had licked his servo had been an  _ inhibitor spike.  _

It had crossed his processor on a few occasions; why exactly Brainstorm simply not dissolve his chain and bust out if his identity was compromised. But the spike; a violent spiked cone made to pierce one's processor if the online their weapons or transformed explained why he hadn't. It was violent,  _ inhumane  _ and completely barbaric. 

Barbaric for a mech like Brainstorm. Inhumane for a mech who only drank synthetic energon. Violent for a mech who had saved him from disintegrating by selling out his own species.

Mechs like Brainstorm didn't deserve this. 

Brainstorm caught his own anger and stiffened into pushing it back down, “I’m also going to warn you. Whatever research you have; burn it.”

That caught Perceptor off guard, “--What?”

Brainstorm stood, the suppression of his emotions leaking into physical movement. He didn't move much more than leaning up against his desk and crossing his arms. 

The threat hurt more than it should have. Brainstorm didn't trust him; couldn't. Perceptor could accept that. But a threat was new; A change from his usual begging and asking. It was at least a nicely phrased threat. Said as if still attempting to shield Perceptor. 

Yet given the situation, Perceptor found himself unable to say no. Despite the threat, despite the fuel crisis Perceptor found himself actually weighing the possibility of throwing it all out; pretending he hadn't seen any of it. 

But even now, would that save Brainstorm?

He felt idiotic now. He felt  _ stupid  _ to come to this point and only now listen to the warnings Brainstorm had tried to give him. The realization stuffed his vents again; that if he had simply listened and treated Brainstorm as an actual sentient being from the beginning that they may not be in this situation to begin with. 

He was a  _ fool _ . And no amount of logic could get him out of it this time. 

“When Pharma takes me away it’s gonna force the other’s hand. And they won’t be coming for me,” Brainstorm tried to explain. 

“They’ll come for the research; to save themselves,” Perceptor finished. 

He could call himself all kinds of fool for as long as he wanted. It wouldn't solve the solution at hand. Brainstorm had come to that realization earlier and had already moved past it. It was something Perceptor realized he admired; a soft genius that exposed itself as a better problem solver than a scientist. For the first time, Perceptor agreed with the Alt-less’ claim. He was a genius, even at the sacrifice of his own well being. 

“Just because it’s frowned upon doesn’t mean they won't attack out of self-preservation. Get rid of your findings and they probably won't kill you,” Brainstorm rationalized. 

Perceptor swallowed, “and you?”

Brainstorm  _ winked.  _ Proud and a bit smug, “Don’t worry Percy. I think I'm too valuable to actually kill.”

Too valuable to kill didn't mean too valuable not to torture mercilessly. Brainstorm obviously knew that fact, making Perceptor question why he would lie for his sake; as if he needed to be shielded from the fact. Not to mention how pissed Pharma had been at the end of the shift. Needless to say, valuable didn't necessarily equate to uninjured. 

If he had something to say to the mech, he needed to say it now, he needed to. What he needed to do was apologize-- for thinking he was a hungry monster, for thinking he was an idiot, for not listening, for-

“Brainstorm-- I--”

The door swished open and cut him off. The apology died on his lips. 

The two large frames barrelled in, aiming for Brainstorm and colliding with him with a terrible clang. The process of getting the stasis cuffs on the prone mech was violent; at one point Brainstorm hissed loudly, earning him a swift punch to the side of his helm.

His optics glazed over from the blow, yet they tracked the door as it opened once more revealing Pharma. 

Perceptor felt himself take a step back to his own desk. 

They crushed him onto his own desk, roughly pining the alt-less’ wings in a way Perceptor could tell was painful. The strangled whines of his engines made Perceptor's spark twist with empathy. When they had him pinned and cuffed properly one of the guards moved and undid his chain, wrapping it around his servo like a dog's leash. 

He really did look like a restrained animal then-- any mech would. 

Pharma stepped forward, grasping Brainstorm's mask harshly and ripping it off so the hinges snapped with an ugly  _ snap _ . 

With an ironic amount of gentle grasping, he cupped his chin as the guards hefted him up. Pharma looked smug-- almost  _ gleeful _ at the state of the creature in front of him. 

“I have been waiting for this for  _ weeks _ ,” Pharma licked his lips, “I can’t wait to find out how you  _ tick. _ ”

Brainstorm snarled and spat. The oral lubricant hissed as it ran down Pharma's neck cables but didn't seem to affect him. 

“The lab,” Pharma commanded. 

He wiped the acid from his neck as the two guards hefted Brainstorm out of the room, leaving a silent space in the proper configuration of the room. 

He didn't fight. 

Perceptor hadn't expected him to.

“Well it will be easier for you to focus now,” Pharma smiled; the kind of smile that the rest of the class gets after the 'problem child’ was removed.

Perceptor kept his face neutral, “Yes. It will surely be a lot quieter.”

The suffocating silence of isolation but quiet nonetheless he supposed. 

“If you’ll excuse me,” Pharma turned towards the door, keeping his body language open,  _ excited, “ _ I have some process work to do now before I can properly end my shift. _ ” _

Pharma left. The door closed. Perceptor was alone. 

He gasped, not entirely sure exactly why or what had caught in his vents, but the cool rush of air felt good on his heated systems. The force of it had him leaning against his desk, optics focused on the spot where Brainstorm had been only minutes ago. The lab felt empty. The lab felt wrong. 

And then a pull. 

Confusing and impulse driven, he found himself wandering to the other side of the lab. Over the red line; and right to Brainstorm's desk. As if his processor was working on a hypothesis he ran his fingers over the scratched surface of his partner's workspace. 

Claw marks. He hadn't seen them before.

Had Brainstorm really been that scared?

His body continued to move on its own. He was looking for something, or at least his body was. It had yet to enlighten him to what object it searched for was when he crouched down under the desk. 

The sight of a chain anchor on the underside of the desk made his vents hitched again. He moved on. 

The drawers on the side of Brainstorm's desk revealed nothing but half broken tools. Half of them looked as if they had been jammed aggressively against another metal object. 

He came to the end of Brainstorm's workplace and his body finally stopped pulling on him like a puppet. For a click, all he did was stand there; back to the door and hand lazily placed on the side of the wash station. 

The gun. 

Brainstorm's project was missing.

_ That brilliant mech _ . 

Brainstorm's cabinet contained one file. He pulled it out and onto the desk in a flurry, flipping it open with no hesitation. The file name-- Cleanup. The contents though we're another beast entirely. 

The file-- the project had been assigned by the Institute. It's main focus; a gel-like substance used to stick falling building together before they could collapse. 

Perceptor eyes the irremovable gel that covered Brainstorm's window. He had finished the project  _ before Perceptor had even arrived _ . 

The gun then; a weapon now missing and in the hands of a mech headed to his torture. 

Or not. 

Perhaps he really was a genius. 

What better way than to plan an escape than to do it right under the optics of a lab partner who didn't know any better?

Perceptor's entire body buzzed. He could feel his own engines picking up the pace in a way that only happened after a successful experiment. Slowly; the feeling foreign to him, the edges of his lips pulled up into a  _ smile _ . 

A genuine, joyful smile. 

Perhaps he would have the chance to make that apology after all.

Perceptor sped back to his own desk, throwing himself onto his spinning chair and allowing himself one full spin in the thing before stopping himself in front of his console. 

He opened the file he had of the synthetic Energon and eyed the information carefully. 

If Brainstorm was prepared to throw himself to the cyber wolves at a shot for freedom; so would he. 

Now, all he needed was a stroke of genius.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW
> 
> The last chapter got a lot of Love! I actually can't believe how popular this story turned out! Anyways. Thank you, everyone, for reading and commenting! And the Kudos! Just thanks for everything!

**Author's Note:**

> Comments GIVE ME LIFEE AHHHHHHH


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